Tag Archives: real surfers

A Few Secret Straits Spots Revealed- Sorry If You Missed It

Posted on by under northwest surfing, real surfers, secret surf spots on the Straits of Juan de Fuca, surf photos, surf sessions, surfing

twinriversRightsDSC03748elwhasunsetDSC03788twinsvaughnDSC03748

THESE are a few photos taken on the Straits of Juan de Fuca by Jeffrey Vaughan; and, actually, I have more. The problem is, it’s not cool to publish photos where the location is obvious, even if the spot is nowhere near secret (oh, it might be somewhere near a secret spot). So, I surf these spots, too; and don’t really need anyone suddenly thinking this might be a destination other than, say, Westport. NOOOOOO! Even rideable waves are soooooo rare.

Besides, it’s not like thousands of wave-starved surf enthusiasts are going to catch a ferry and head many miles west northwest just because they saw something on my site.

SOOOOOOO, I’m going to do a flash posting, Saturday, 9pm Pacific Daylight Savings Time, featuring some very pretty photos at a spot easily recognizable to those who have been skunked at the very beach. I’ll delete the photos around 11:35, since anyone up will probably be seeing if Saturday Night Live is new, a rerun, or any way funny.

ORRRR, maybe a few city crews, spurred on by the images and hoping the forecasts and the buoy readings are wrong, might just be loading up for that first ferry.

UPDATE: I did post the other photos. They were great. And, like the fickle waves we seek, they’re gone.

It’s Like Mr. Peanut Without the Hat

Posted on by under northwest surfing, real surfers, secret surf spots on the Straits of Juan de Fuca, surf photos, surf sessions, surf stories, surfing, surfing in Washington State

realsurfersMeAgainrealsurfersMrPeanut

Jeff Vaughn, who ripped up a large number of lefts while I was searching for a right that would clear the reef, casually doing the classic South Bay longboard drop-stand-and-turn, noseride, kickout or island pullout or flip backwards in a closeout, sent me a few shots from an uncrowded session at a sort-of-secret spot (as in, everyone knows about it, but no one is supposed to give the name out to any kooks who evidently don’t own a computer or know anyone who does, and who might show up on one of those rare, rare, extremely rare days when there are actually waves) somewhere on the Straits of Juan de Fuca.

I showed my wife, Trish, the ones of me, obviously trimming, quite casually, and in the right spot on the wave. The images were quite small and her comments included: “You weren’t wearing a hood (the other surfer out, a PA local and member of the Surfrider Foundation, whose name I should know, but don’t, was);” and, “At least you’re standing up;” and, “That stick (‘you mean paddle?’), it looks like, maybe, you use it to help you stand up;” and, in response to a question from me, “No, you don’t look that fat.” More like “THAT fat.”

I wrote back to Jeff, thanked him, sent the photos on to a few of my surfing friends. Well, pretty much all of them I have email addresses for, mostly so I didn’t have to describe the waves as “knee to waist high with the occasional head high sets, and the indicators, at the lefts and the rights, going off pretty regularly.”

Wow, the last paragraph pretty much messed up the timing for this: Jeff sent more photos, bigger, zoomed-in. In these photos, I do look THAT fat. No, you won’t be seeing them, but, when I showed Trish, complained about how I look less like the surfing super hero I know she thinks of me as, than an old fat guy in an embarrassingly stretched-to-the-limit wetsuit (but still in perfect trim), she merely nodded. Politely. “And yet,” when I tried to show her the same photo again, just to show the wave positioning, she said, “and yet you can’t stop looking at it.”

No. In fact, maybe I’ll print it up, stick that on the refrigerator.

A Moment Before The Swoop

Posted on by under Erwin Dence illustrations, real surfers, surfing, surfing art, surfing illustrations, surfing Lower Trestles

realsurfersSwoop 001eagleswooping

At the height of a projection, the speed of the original drop used to get to this point, down the line and up into the thinnest part of the wave, hanging, suspended, the right hand holding nothing more than a level, the left hand only holding balance when and where there is none without the speed itself…hold that weightlessness… hold it.  When the hand opens…

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: The drawing is based on (as opposed to copied from) a photo of Keanu Asing competing at Lower Trestles during the recent Hurley WQS event. I looked through eighty photos supplied by the World Surfing League, airs and rotations and cutbacks and… at this moment, on this ride, there are choices. Were choices. I can imagine an adjustment that allows a freefall from the lip, even a tuck into the pocket. I can imagine a cutback into the whitewater.

High-Lining Down The Line, Edited, with Illustration

Posted on by under Erwin Dence illustrations, getting barrelled, real surfers, surf stories, surfing art

This is the drawing I didn’t have ready for “Down The Line.” I can’t seem to figure out how to make it larger on the page. The photo is of Black’s Beach by Matt Aden.

realsurfersDwnTheLne 001

You have to love the waves you don’t think you’ll make, ones on which you’d like just a little more speed out of your board. You’re trimming high on the wall, focused only on the wave ahead and below you, and it’s only getting hollower; and you know that section ahead, that last pitch before you can glide; it breaks, explodes, really, on river rocks, round, smooth; no oversized chunkers; cobblestones; and you’ve already been caught in that shallow trap, board dropping out and down as the lip hit you; you’ve already pirouetted and half-twisted and leaped toward the open ocean, and been thrashed, bounced off that reef, your board going over you in inches of water.

And you made some. Easy. Too easy; you must have been too far out in front.

Blacks photo by Matt Aden

“Again” is really all you’re thinking; “This time…” Maybe you’ll crouch, hand in the wave face, tight, ready.

This time you might make be in that perfect spot. More speed. You take off at an angle, too far over, probably, project out of a down the line bottom turn, and find that high line again. Speed; you need more. You see the ribs of the wave ahead, the already-pitching lip. More speed. You don’t tuck in; but you move your weight forward, subtly pumping, just tweaking the angle. If you weren’t holding your breath, you are now. No, you’re ready to scream, success or failure; this is where you always wanted to be; that high line between… between frightening and thrilling.

The board skitters, no way it would hold in the thin lip; it side slips down the curve, you in the curtain, trying to stay on, your back hand pushed farther behind you, focus still on the deep water ahead, and…

…and now you’re laughing, and not thinking of anything else but… “Again!”

Excuse Me, Sir… uh, um… maybe you’re ‘MIND SURFING.’ Sorry. It’ll Wait. It’s Just, you know, Work

Posted on by under mind surfing, real surfers, surf adventures, surf stories

IMG_20150426_123545

“If I were free, beyond this cubicle, beyond these fences and stoplights and freeways, out where the ocean constantly, steadily, erodes and decays the man-made manifestations of pride and ego and power-games; if I had never bought into the ethic, the code, set up by the captors, gotten onboard the ‘debt-work-debt’ escalator; if I could even see beyond the next meal; maybe some bonus thrown my way in hopes I might show some teeth, some gratitude (though many would settle for dodging a turd); if the nights weren’t spent mostly anticipating the days; if I were free…

“…I’d be dropping in behind the peak, skittering, falling, setting my fins, powering… I’d be catching a glimpse of a waterfall rainbow… watching the field of diamonds bend and curve, see the sun through a thin, reaching, slapping hand of a wave as I break free. Free. If I were free, beyond this cubicle…”

My daughter, Drucilla Dence, walked to the Lincoln Park Zoo the other day, from her apartment (walking distance to work in the Hancock Tower). She said the trip was notable because nothing happened, no scary encounters with crazies, no near-misses in the crosswalks, and the day was lovely. She sent me some photos and said I had to respond. Okay. Thanks, Dru (and, no, I’ll not add this to the piece where you compared me to your cat, Mister Pugsley). Love, Dad.

And, look; maybe a lot of us would rather be somewhere else than working; I break free every once in a while. Tomorrow, maybe. Meanwhile…

High-Lining Again

Posted on by under getting barrelled, northwest surfing, real surfers, secret surf spots on the Straits of Juan de Fuca, surf sessions, surf stories, surfing in Washington State, surfing Southern California in the 60s, surfing tales, surfing Trestles in the 70s

I just kind of stared at the title for a bit too long. It could say more, or, maybe it says enough.

You have to love the waves you don’t think you’ll make, ones on which you’d like just a little more speed out of your board. You’re trimming high on the wall, focused only on the wave ahead and below you, and it’s only getting hollower; and you know that section ahead, that last pitch before you can glide; it breaks, explodes, really, on river rocks, round, smooth; no oversized chunkers; cobblestones; and you’ve already been caught in that shallow trap, board dropping out and down as the lip hit you; you’ve already pirouetted and half-twisted and leaped toward the open ocean, and been thrashed, bounced off that reef, your board going over you in inches of water.

And you made some. Easy. Too easy; you must have been too far out in front.

Blacks photo by Matt Aden

Blacks photo by Matt Aden

“Again” is really all you’re thinking; “This time…” Maybe you’ll crouch, hand in the wave face, tight, ready.

This time you might make be in that perfect spot. More speed. You take off at an angle, too far over, probably, project out of a down the line bottom turn, and find that high line again. Speed; you need more. You see the ribs of the wave ahead, the already-pitching lip. More speed. You don’t tuck in; but you move your weight forward, subtly pumping, just tweaking the angle. If you weren’t holding your breath, you are now. No, you’re ready to scream, success or failure; this is where you always wanted to be; that high line between… between frightening and thrilling.

The board skitters, no way it would hold in the thin lip; it side slips down the curve, you in the curtain, trying to stay on, your back hand pushed farther behind you, focus still on the deep water ahead, and…

…and now you’re laughing, and not thinking of anything else but… “Again!”

This piece was inspired by my last session, able, by luck and tide, to find and surf some rights, rare in the Straits of Juan de Fuca; no, not the pitching sand-spitters featured a few posts down, but something in preparation, maybe, for those. I’m dying to surf those, maybe not quite ready. I’m more ready now.  I was fortunate enough to work up the hill from Trestles for ten months in 1975, and, remember well telling my friend Phillip Harper, on the phone (he was in medical school at the time) that I would get going so fast down the line that I’d pull up to the top of the wave and my board (and I) would freefall, catch, and the process would be repeated. However, forty years later, I should admit that I pulled a few tight waves standing, but, probably the ride I’ll remember longest, the ride the longest and the tightest, I was on my kneeboarding it after a very steep takeoff, and, eyes wide open, I was totally covered in that moment of weightlessness.

Okay, now I’m sort of staring into some file in my memory bank, hitting the ‘save’ button, and hoping you know exactly what I’m talking about. “Next time…”

Adam Wipeout’s Realsurfer Guide- Number 3; The ‘Roll-up-the-window’ and the ‘Double Over-the-falls’

Posted on by under northwest surfing, real surfers, surf adventures, surfing guide, wipeouts

realsurfersOvrtheFlls I actually started doing a drawing/cartoon/illustration for this, but have a time crunch trying to get a major-sized job completed so I can (hopefully) have a day off during the week to hit what looks like the run of swell we’ve been waiting for. Sound familiar? The scheming, hoping, dreaming, mind-surfing, knowing you’re missing good (possibly… no, probably) waves with the promise (often imagined, often broken) of catching better waves?

Anyway, Adam Wipeout is a real person, totally stoked, more of a name-dropper, and definitely more of a name-rememberer than I am; but, since his nickname seems to be sticking, and because I actually got the ‘roll-up-the-window’ simile from him, he seems like the perfect spokesperson for realsurfer hints and tricks and techniques. Try any and all at home.

NUMBER ONE- might be that it’s all right to pee in your wetsuit or trunks, and might actually provide some temporary warmth, provided you’re at least genital-high in the water. It would be kind of embarrassing to be leaking yellow from the leg of a dry wetsuit (though the process of suiting-up with pumping waves visible can create an urgent need to go- at least it does for me). Washing of the wetsuit later is up to your own personal hygiene standards and practices. But, good idea.

NUMBER TWO-  Never do a number two in the water. Okay, maybe, not confessing here, and, besides, statute of limitations, I may have done it once; way back, in an emergency, pulling down the trunks, underwater, and I was the only one out at, let’s say, the Oceanside South Jetty just before dawn, but, since it was a floater and not a sinker… lesson learned, lesson passed on.

NUMBER THREE- The technique is this: It’s a head-high wave, and, because you’re not sure you’ve actually caught it, you jump up, just like you’ve practiced, just like you do several times a day at your work, for more practice. It turns out you didn’t quite catch it, and you’re almost standing, maybe too much weight on the front foot, and you’re dropping in too late and too out of control. You stick both arms out perpendicular to your body, if your body was actually standing straight up, and you rotate those arms, just as if you were rolling up (or down) the windows in your car. I guess this would assume your car was, maybe a tiny smart car without automatic windows. Anyway, that’s the image. Arm rotators. Or, picture you’re at Waikiki in 1914 But, this attempt at rebalancing doesn’t work, and, as the wave drops out underneath you, the lip crashes into you as if you were (like, on purpose) performing a full body head-dip, and you go over the falls.

This is the first one, the single. Then, because the wave is so powerful, you’re sucked up from the trough and… no amount of arm-rolling can save you now, you go up and over the falls the second time, your board… you have no idea where your board is, you just hope it doesn’t hit you. You (and I really mean Adam) don’t need another thigh bruise like the time you tried the SUP, caught the outside (beach side) rail. Ouch! Still better than catching the outside rail, having the board come up, sideways, between your legs, as you do the single over the falls in the shorebreak. Happened to me. Once. Tamarack. Only once, though the-board-to-the-nose when I tried to push out through a wave and lost my grip on the rails… a couple of times. Tamarack, K-54. Oh, and now I’m remembering several instances of the dick-n-balls board slam/slap. Tamarack, Swamis, Pipes, etc.. This is less likely in a wetsuit than in loose board shorts, but usually means you didn’t get the nose-knock but did catch some air on the way out, then… ‘ouch, me hardies!’ (this is a response to this type of injury used by my son, James)

But, we learn. A hint from me, though I don’t remember ever having performed the double over the falls, and I’m way too cool to do the window-rolling thing, more likely to do the dismount/bail with accompanying yelp/scream: When you’re helpless, being thrashed by the wave, and you’re not sure where your board is, and you’re assuming the fetal position, both hands over your head… well, good luck. I have to go.

Thanks Adam. Get working on Number 4; how to look like a surfer and where to find the perfect apres’ surf hangout spot that isn’t actually a parking area or Goodwill, the real surfer’s clothing supplier.

Risen

Posted on by under Erwin Dence illustrations, surf adventures, surf illustrations, surf sessions, surfing drawings, surfing illustrations, writings of Erwin Dence
Some believe one shouldn't try to depict any deity (not arguing this here) in any medium. I drew two different illustrations to commemorate Easter, actually put on on the site. For about ten minutes. This is an acrylic I did several years ago on canvas board, a bit warped from leaning on the piano. I had to weigh down the top of the scanner to make it work. I'd regret the wasted time I spent on drawings I won't use, but, really, what I'd prefer, is more time to waste similarly.

Some believe one shouldn’t try to depict any deity (not arguing this here) in any medium. I drew two different illustrations to commemorate Easter, actually put on on the site. For about ten minutes. This is an acrylic I did several years ago on canvas board, a bit warped from leaning on the piano. I had to weigh down the top of the scanner to make it work. It’s not really out of focus; it was painted that way.  I’d regret the wasted time I spent on drawings I won’t use, but, really, what I’d prefer, is more time to waste similarly.

There have been a couple of thousand Easters, and an unknown (to us) number of dawns, the daily reminder that we have another opportunity to struggle, to succeed, to fail; another chance to correct some of our blunders, to move beyond our failures, to push toward, toward…

…we have hours and days to worry about what we’re struggling against, about what we’re striving for. What we might do, for a moment, is consider love and compassion and grace and peace and redemption; realizing we need more than we possess or can attain.

May you occasionally stop to appreciate the journey, wherever your beliefs and your search to validate them takes you. Seriously. What I most firmly believe is that, wherever this adventure takes us, life is a solo trip for each of us. We share a few seconds or days or years; we find  a bit (or, hopefully, a lot) of what we’re searching for; and we keep going.  Stop, think about the gift of those moments; moments of love, of peace, of mystery and magic, maybe a few moments on a wave you’re not sure you’re going to make. And, incidentally, thanks for sharing this moment.

Mister (never abbreviated to Mr.) Pugsley is not a Real Surfer

Posted on by under real surfers

PicsArt_1428103195532

My daughter Drucilla’s cat, Mister Pugsley, in on the right. That’d be my right. I’d be the cat in the photo on the right. No, Dru, I don’t see any similarities… maybe the serious expressions. But, wait; Mister Pugsley looks just a bit, um… no, I think he’s just a serious cat.  Imagine Mister Pugsley, with an intent and serious expression, paddling like crazy for a wave that you also would like to ride. You may decide to give way.  All right, I’m going to stop looking; it’s just too intimidating.

“So, This One Time, Back at Surf Camp…” a short story/illustration

Posted on by under Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing, real surfers, surf adventures, surf illustrations, surfing art, surfing illustrations, Uncategorized
I showed this, at a bit of a distance, to my wife, Trish. She nodded, approvingly, then asked why there were so many words. "I can't help it," I explained. So difficult to be clever, even with a few phallic symbols and a double entendre or two. Oh,and now I've over-explained. Damn.

I showed this, at a bit of a distance, to my wife, Trish. She nodded, approvingly, then asked why there were so many words. “I can’t help it,” I explained. It’s just so difficult to be clever, even with an “American Pie” reference, a few phallic symbols and a double entendre or two. Oh,and now I’ve ‘over-explained.’